


I know you like what's on my mind, I know it eats you up inside

by TotemundTabu



Series: 30 THROBB SMUTS [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jaime Lannister, Breathplay, Cock Slapping, Dirty Talk, Dom Robb Stark, Dom/sub Undertones, Face Slapping, Hair-pulling, Handcuffs, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, Implied Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Implied/Referenced Incest, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prisoner of War, Size Kink, Sub Theon Greyjoy, The Author Regrets Everything, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Robb Stark, Urination, Verbal Humiliation, a tiny tinsy bit, dick stepping, verse theon greyjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 09:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: "Jaime found himself looking at the salt prince's face and realized, to his dismay, he did find him pretty. Really pretty. No wonder Robb Stark picked him." - For the anon who asked a Robb/Theon/Jaime threesome - Author is very sorry





	I know you like what's on my mind, I know it eats you up inside

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Mija for correcting it and being my column as always <3 , to Fil for the help with *that* scene, to Lavi for the general help and encouragement plus the title help :D

**I know you like what's on my mind, I know it eats you up inside**

 

* * *

 

 

_I ain't buyin' into your apathy, [...]_

_You wanna know about atrocity?_

_I know you want what's on my mind,_

_I know you like what's on my mind,_

_I know it eats you up inside._

 

* * *

 

“For the last time. - Robb chuckled, caressing his jet black hair – You don't have to call me your grace when no one is around.”

Theon shook his head slowly, cocked a brow and smirked.

“But your grace. - his hands went to Robb's belt, caressed the leather-covered waist – It makes such good foreplay to get bossed around by you, now that you're my king.”

Robb raised his eyebrows, “I see.”

Theon's lips brushed his jaw, caressed the chin, the soft lips against the little stubble Robb was starting to grow. He pulled Robb closer by the waist and breathed in his scent.  
“They'll start wondering why I sleep in your tent.”, he whispered, in a smile.

“You're my friend. - Robb murmured, caressing Theon's hair, while his hands went down his back – That should be reason enough. Nobody was surprised in Winterfell.”

“Winterfell is not as crowded, your grace.”, Theon chuckled, smirking, then offering his lips for a big kiss.

Robb bowed into him and invaded his mouth, as powerfully and quickly as he did with the south. Theon moaned and smiled into the kiss, pushing back towards Robb, his tongue also filling Robb's mouth.

Robb's hand pulled Theon's hair back, forcing him to pull out of the kiss and then the young king sank his teeth into his fresh, soft neck.

Theon panted, “You should let a woman in. - he said, breathless, arousal shaking his veins and nerves, setting him alight – Just to shut them up.”

Robb stopped and swallowed.

He moved away from Theon, but his hands were still on his shoulders, caressing them. His look was grave and mortified.

Theon frowned, “...have I offend you, your... Robb?”

Robb shook his head, slowly. His voice was gravel and hoarse smoke.

“It's the Kingslayer. - he breathed out, dry – He... said something.”

Theon furrowed his eyebrows and put a hand on Robb's face, caressing his cheek.

“What did he say?”

Robb looked away, “...that he has never seen me with a woman.”

Theon's eyes went wide, his lips trembled but he forced out a smug grin, because that was what Robb needed right then.

“Well, who speaks! The one who bangs his sister. - he snorted, metallic – Sure tells a lot about what a narcissist he is.”

Robb still looked away, stubbornly.

“What if he … if he speaks about it.”

“I'll cut his tongue.”

“Theon!”

“I'll shoot him then. - Theon promised, his hands running on Robb's body, on his neck, pulling him close, his glance so devoted and dark – He won't even notice it, I'll strike him quickly and...”

“We need him alive, and we will leave him whole.”, Robb pointed out, trying to force out of himself a smile.

Theon looked almost wounded.

“... I had been with many girls in Winterfell, they won't think that, because of me.”

“The fact you go both ways, doesn't change the fact I didn't. - Robb groaned – If anything, it may give the impression that...”

He didn't finish, he just tilted his head and Theon understood quite enough. His cheek burned, not for the embarrassment, as much as the shame and the frustration powerlessness drove into him.

Theon swallowed.

“He sure looked at you.”

Robb frowned, then looked at Theon, perplexed, as if to ask him to expand.

Theon shrugged, “Maybe he just wanted to provoke you, to insult you, to call you a boy...”

“... he did that, aye.”

“Or, perhaps, he did notice that you had not accompanied yourself with women because he did look at you.”, Theon's hand was back on Robb's chest, caressing it through the tunic.

Robb seemed caught back.

“What do you mean?”

Theon raised his eyebrow, then his shoulders and mumbled, almost distractedly, as one hand tempted Robb's nipples through the fabric and the other teased his auburn curls, soft behind the neck.

“How do you find him? He's attractive enough.”

Robb's eyes went wide, “I... no.”

“No is not an answer. - Theon pointed out, his glance sharp and gleam wicked – If he had something to feel also ashamed for... - his finger twisted a curl, wrapping it around it – He wouldn't speak.”

“I won't... force myself on him.”, Robb mumbled, horrified.

Theon chuckled, shaking his head and smiled, “Robb. I didn't mean that. - he kissed his cheek softly, soothing him – You know me, I never would.”

Robb shook his head, “You're right... I... but then how?”

Theon smirked, “I think the Kingslayer is not immune to seduction.”

Robb smiled, but then looked at Theon amused, from up to down and then up again, while his hand went to Theon's crotch, squeezing it slightly.

“You don't look _exactly_ like Cersei Lannister, you know?”

Theon put his arms on Robb's neck, entwining them, then pulled him close against him, trashing his hips against Robb's.

“Oh, - Theon curled up his lips, then licked them, eager – Would you prefer me blonde?”

Robb smiled and bent in for a kiss, whispering, “I would change nothing of you, my prince.”

Theon caught Robb's lips before he could and drowned in the taste of Robb's mouth.

Robb was already hard and big and Theon's half-lidded eyes shone as he felt it against his leg, between his legs.

He pulled back.

“I'll seduce him. - he said, forcing himself to not look at Robb in the eyes – I'll fuck him, you just...”

Robb pulled his hair, with a strong twitch. It almost hurt, it would have had, if it weren't from Robb, it was never pain and only pleasure stirring in his balls.

“You won't fuck anyone else. - Robb almost roared, eyes wet – You promised.”

Right, he did. Oops.

Theon sighed, “I... I know you wouldn't.”

Robb's hand went soft and freed Theon's hair. He looked away.

“That's why it is not a good plan, let's just...”

Theon pulled Robb close again and stared right in his eyes, nailing him, “Then both, both of us, together.”

“What are you meaning with this?”

Theon smirked, “Did anyone ever resist me? - he asked, cocky as one can be – I'll make him so hard he'll beg for it, and we both, we will take him. He will want us to.”

Robb seemed to become a bit red on the cheeks.

“I, it sounds a bit...”

“Obscene? - Theon caressed Robb's cheek – It's three people, nothing big. - he promised, ineffective, but then his voice softened and got as thick as honey – And it's going to be you and me, together.”

“But... what if he tells.”

“He'd have the choice between admitting he wanted to or that he was taken against his will. - Theon's hand caressed Robb's chin and jaw – He'd pick the less humiliating option: shutting up. About this night and about you.”

“Only if we're desperate and there is no other solution and...at one condition.”

“I love when you order me around. - Theon admitted, eyes on fire – Tell me, your grace.”

“He won't fuck you. You're mine.”

Theon's expression sweetened, “And you're the only one I'd accept in me.- he promised – I'm yours.”

“Now and always?”

A smile, then whispered “Now and always.”

 

*

 

“Do you plan to wait in the shadows for long?”

Theon chuckled, emerging from the darkness behind Jaime and coming closer to the dimly lit cage of wood he was kept in. He admitted, biting his lips, he didn't mind seeing the Kingslayer like that: dirty and gritty, his golden hair stained with earth and his face unkept, the stubble picking through.

“My, oh my, aren't you a tad bit too tied up to be that cocky?”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, “Is the _ward_ speaking about that?”

It burnt, but Theon smirked it off.

“The queen sure must appreciate that long tongue of yours.”

Jaime stiffened.

He got used to the japes about that, by then, but there was something different in Greyjoy's voice. He was mocking him, sure, but not with despise.

He didn't seem to be judging his affair, just to find solace in the control and power he had now.

“I knew your friend was a direwolf, but you truly seem like a shadowcat. Did you mistake me for a mouse?”

“Perhaps... - Theon opened the cage and walked to Jaime, moving closer – I don't appreciate you making comments about my king.”

Jaime blinked, as if he had to understand, then squinted his eyes and let out a sound between a laugh and a cough.

“Of course you don't.”

Theon raised his eyebrows, “I'm not that different from you, Kingslayer. - he tilted his head and his grin seemed so sharp Jaime felt cut and gutted by it – Only, I'd make sure you die, not stay a cripple.”

Jaime gulped.

“You sure bluff well.”, he tried.

Theon snorted, “Are you willing to bet your life on the assumption I wouldn't kill? I'm not a merciful one.”

“You're callow and arrogant, for sure.”

Theon's eyelids fluttered slowly. Jaime understood then that even Theon didn't know exactly how serious he was; he did seem to have little regard for human life, he also seemed unexpectedly sensitive, to be this upset over a kid who seemed to snob him and... Jaime chuckled. Of course.

It was not about the child, was it?

“You'd do everything for your king, wouldn't you?”

Theon's jaw stiffened.

“Lay another look on him... - he whispered, bending so his eyes and Jaime's were at the same height – And I'll gauge your pretty eyes out and deliver them to the queen.”

“She'd kill you.”, the Kingslayer replied, at first, then he hesitated, thought longer.

“Would she? I wonder.”

Something hurt inside. Something reminded him of himself in that boy with deep, dark eyes and quick lips.

It was his passion. A passion wasted to ashes.

Jaime licked his lips, biting them, “He won't wed you, you know that, right? That he can't.”

Theon seemed caught back, but he laughed, smug, “Are you accusing my king of something, Kingslayer?”

“Don't play games. - Jaime seemed to advice – You don't judge me by my stupidity, I don't judge you by yours.”

Theon swallowed, then looked away.

“I'm loyal to my king.”

“They'll call you fool too. - Jaime chuckled, looking at himself, at his tied ankles and the mud and worms on his feet – They'd or laugh or scorn or be disgusted. Nobody will understand how you feel.”

Theon turned to him again, growling, “Robb is not like your whore queen. - he spit – He won't...”

“...keep you by his side to fuck you in a tower while the legitimate spouse hunts?”, Jaime suggested, snorting.

Theon's hand moved to his bow, to an arrow. He wanted to pluck out Jaime's eyes.

They way they looked at him, like he would look into a mirror... 

“We're not that different, ironborn prince. - Jaime whispered – You and me, we live in the shadows, doing things that rot at the bottom of our stomachs. - he cocked a brow – Do you want to kill me? Do. But ask yourself what will be of you in some years. Maybe you won't give birth to children of your sin, but your love will be for the low lit rooms and the stolen hours in between hunting trips.”

Theon's hand trembled.

Robb, Robb would have never do that to him, no.

Robb was going to trust him. Robb loved him.

For real.

The day in the woods came back to his mind, weighted on his stomach, drenched in cold, liquid pain, and the wound left by the words Robb yelled was open all over again.

His hand went on Lannister's neck, he pulled him up, forced him to stare up. The Kingslayer had a pretty neck, nice apple and tender flesh; he made a little, strangled sound, wiggling slightly, while Theon's grip got harder.

Theon looked down.

And laughed.

His grip was not the only thing that got hard.

He pressed his boot against Jaime's stiff crotch, making him buck forward, hips and mouth struggling. He saw the blond knight pant, unable to let out a beg from that pretty mouth, and his cock was only more and more desperate – Jaime's eyes shone so wet that Theon felt himself not wanting to hollow them out anymore.

He released his throat and Jaime panted, coughed, moans came out of him breathy, throaty and hoarse. He choked on his own breath, while his hips twitched and his erection got more evident.

Theon moved his foot away and let out a smirk.

“Is this what you like your queen sister to do to you?”

Jaime found himself looking at the salt prince's face and realized, to his dismay, he did find him pretty. Really pretty.

No wonder Robb Stark picked him.

He swallowed hard, gulping with labour, struggling to find enough snark to reply, “Does your king?”

Theon stared at him, between amused and annoyed, “My king is not as effeminate as you are, Kingslayer.”

“Oh. - Jaime raised an eyebrow and curled his lips – Then are you the one who...?”

He couldn't finish the sentence, he had an arrow stuck, manually, a few millimetres from his face.

Theon Greyoy was breathing heavily, nose wrinkled and lips twitching. He reminded Jaime of Robb's wolf.

Guardogs.

His mouth was open and Jaime looked at it, fluttering. He did have pretty lips.

Theon pressed against his mouth first, though, and Jaime closed his eyes, getting lost in the scent.

He didn't taste like Cersei at all.

He whined, moaned, when Theon Greyjoy's tongue pushed, fierce and big, into his mouth, filling it whole.

His mind went to Cersei sitting on his face, of how dark and inebriating her cunt tasted like, and he got harder imagining the Greyjoy boy stuffing his mouth with his ironborn cock. He moaned harder and Theon smirked against his lips.

Then he bit his lip open, and parted.

“If I were. - he raised his eyebrows – How low would that make you, I wonder.”

Jaime panted.

He saw how hard his cock was, pulling up the pants, forcing them into a tent of need.

“I was meaning to threaten you a bit. - he murmured – To drop the gossip on my king or I would have taken you, maybe even in public. - he chuckled – But now I do wonder if that would even constitute a punishment to you.”

Jaime strangled a groan.

There was something salty and hurtful in the boy.

He was dark and salty as the sea; and yet, so warm, warm as Cersei's wrath, warm as his own burning pride. The boy smirked, head tilted.

God, he was cocky.

And Jaime had a soft spot for that.

Theon raised his eyebrows, pleased at recognizing an unwilling interest gleaming in Jaime's glance.

“Don't look at him again.”, Theon warned.

Jaime spit a gulp of blood on the wet earth. He looked at Theon, as he walked away.

He had a pretty ass.

 

*

 

Robb held him, thrusting into him, Theon arched his back, throwing his head behind, coming with a meowled groan.

His chest was still shaking, when Robb started kissing it again, sucking his nipples, while a hand kept jerking his cock.

“Robb, Robb, give me a min-”, he choked on his own moans, Robb still hard in his oversensitive ass, his hand pushing his cock to twitch and throb with the most lewd afterglow hardness.

He moved his hips, meeting Robb's crotch, fucking himself on his cock, taking pleasure in how deep he could take him, how much he could be filled.

Robb trembled, pounded, thrust. It hurt and yet it mattered nothing.

Theon put his hands on Robb's cheeks and pulled him close, kissing him hard, their tongues entwining in an inebriating rendezvous.

Robb's scent intoxicated him and left him open and adoring.

“I love you.”, he whispered on the edge of Theon's mouth.

Theon swallowed and pushed again into a kiss, shutting him up.

Was the Kingslayer right?

Was Robb going to treat him like the queen treated Jaime? A good advisor, maybe somewhat rewarded? A good brother to have around? In front of everyone? And then, at night, just at night, would he have come to his chambers, after having emptied himself already once in the cunt of his Queen, a random Frey girl, all braids and needlework, too shy to take that heavy cock in her mouth, too holy to accept it in her arse? Would he have been some kind of service? Some kind of personal, favorite whore?

Robb's cock started feeling uncomfortable inside, but he let him push harder, slam stronger – he whined, he screamed, he could feel Robb about to come into his raw flesh.

Robb, his Robb, with hair the color of dark wine and eyes like little girls' dreams?

Robb, his Robb, all strong arms and passionate kisses?

Robb, his Robb... who yelled at him for saving Bran's life.

Robb came in a hoarse grunt and then opened his mouth, taking in all of Theon's length, and sucking it so well Theon scooted, moaned and came down his throat. Like in Winterfell. Like before all that your grace shit.

Theon's now soft cock slipped from Robb's tongue as he swallowed down the salty liquid. Robb hinted a smile, but found Theon's expression apparently less serene.

His hand went to his black hair, caressing it softly.

“What's wrong? - a kiss on the ear, his voice was low – Is the Kingslayer worrying you again?”

“In some way.”

Theon sat up and turned to a big, brass bowl, filled with the sweetest peaches and juiciest pomegranates and reddest plums. He bit into one of the latter, having juice drops fall down his neck, as pretty and slow as when he gags on Robb's come and it rolls down from his swollen red lips.

Robb rolled next to him and pulled him from the waist close, holding him in his meanly sweet grip. Possessive as his fucking wolf.

But Theon loved it. To belong.

He bent his neck and kissed Robb's mouth, invading him with his tongue, tasting Robb's flavor and the one of his own come.

Robb's cock started to twitch again.

“You fucking boy. - Theon slipped away and put a sheet between his ass and Robb’s soon-to-come-back hardness – You truly are fifteen.”

Robb came behind him and kissed Theon behind the ear, sweet and dark – honey dirty with lies.

“Almost sixteen.”, Robb says, kissing Theon's lobe, then capturing it in his lips, dragging out Theon's softest voice, his most high-pitched moans. Theon tried to look away, hating himself and how much he loved Robb.

“Still, that thing springs up like a...”

“...spring?”, Robb suggested, with a dorky know-it-all smile.

“Smartass. Oh, _oh_.” 

Robb smirked, his hand caressing Theon's cock through the thin fabric of the sheet between them. He whispered in Theon's ear, all cocky, “I want to bring you on the brink of ecstasy every night.”

Theon panted, his breath trembled. He bit his lip.

“I love you.- Robb repeated – I love you, Theon. I won't marry the Frey girl.”

“You have no choice.”, Theon murmured, then melting and unravelling in the wettest moan.

Robb's nose nuzzled into his neck, his tongue passed on the carotide, then he bit down, dragging the blood out, blooming marks deep purple and red, while Theon writhed, and, speechless, wheezed and squirmed against his crotch. A fucking wolf. God, if he loved him.

He called his name, one, two, three times, each higher, each needier.

He arched his head back, Robb sinking his teeth deeper into his neck and sucking harder until Theon's voice turned in a spasmed, drenched beg.

Robb left his neck and growled, into Theon's ear, his voice way murkier than usual.

“Ask me, after the war, I'll leave it all. - he pulled Theon closer by the waist and rubbed his cock against the soft ass, through the fabric – We will go away, you and I, far away...”

Oh, Robb. His child.

All dreams and adventures behind a serious face. Still a little, soft heart, behind long hair and a stubble barely grown.

Theon turned to him, caressing his face.

And he knew they'll never have that. Never.

No matter how much Robb may want it, no matter how much he may want it.

“You're my king.”

“You're my prince.”

Theon smiled, in a blue bitterness, “You need a queen.”

Robb pulled him close, “For what? I wouldn't even... be able to...”

“I'm sure you could. - Theon smiled, his eyelids felt heavy for some reason – Even just for one night...”

Robb cupped Theon’s face in his hands, shaking his own in a denial motion.

“I won't.”

Theon gave a chuckle, then a sob, hidden behind a smirk, “Maybe you can ask Walder Frey if you can get a son instead of a daughter.”

Robb's eyelashes fluttered, as he stared at Theon's bottom lip, his wet, swollen mouth that kept calling him, enchanting and cursed.

“I couldn't anyway. I belong to you.”

Theon tried not to laugh.

He really was a paramour.

“Mark me harder, then. And then I'll mark you.”, he promised, kissing Robb's eyelids.

 

*

 

Jaime missed her.

Somewhat differently than he imagined missing her: with anger, with bitterness. The taste so sweet of her cunt also brought back the sharp edge of her nails and the thrill and din of her shrieks.

But they were the same, after all.

At least she, she was like him, and thus he was not alone.

There are no men like him, he knew that much – isolation and solitude meant that, the taste of ashes in his mouth and on his mouth what else but the ghost of his own sister's come.

She would pull his head down, make him sink and drown in the rare, golden curls and arch and slam, moving against him, so much and so needy that at times he wondered who was the maid and who was fucking who.

And, when he grabbed her waist and put her on all fours, right after, and slammed into her wet, dark cave, thrusting into her and smelling the scent of her hair, she would come again whispering and cursing; that gravelly tense voice, strangled with pleasure, as she laboured to speak and her eyes always closed with release approaching, haunted his dreams. But that was it.

No tenderness hit him.

No sweetness caressed him.

He couldn't remember of her much of joyful or sweet, not since Bran Stark. The things he did for love, the things she never did.

The things nobody ever did.

He stiffened, seeing a shadow walking in the field, draped in black, moving fast and nervous.

He found himself curious enough to spy on it and he despised himself a bit for recognizing him by glancing at his boots.

“Greyjoy. - a chuckle – Taking a piss after your meeting with the king?”

Theon turned and as he did, his long hair bounced just enough for Jaime to feel a clench in his heart.

The anger on his face was familiar, too familiar.

Big, like Cersei's. Limitlessly sad, like his own.

Jaime felt his sweat set on fire. His chains hurt on his wrists.

The boy came to him, swallowing, trying to hide a veil of tears behind a grin so sharp one would think of him as a Bolton. But it trembled. Like Robb Stark's voice did when he faced him.

Two boys, that's what they were, two boys playing chess against lions who don't care for the rules.

“What do you want, Kingslayer?”

Jaime tried to find an excuse, anything, maybe to keep him there a little longer.

Something in his heart called for that weird boy.

“I need to take a piss too. - he gulped – But I can't really stand.”

Theon raised an eyebrow, uncaring, “Then take it where you are.”

Jaime chuckled again, then looked at him. 

Theon Greyjoy was pretty, really. Like he was at his age, maybe a tad bit more.

Dark all over, with a wicked line to him, lean as sin, elegant like a cat – onyx does not need to be shining like gold to be beautiful. Even in opaque times, when it looks like the dark abyss of death – or of a lover's throat – it has some kind of mesmerizing depth.

He had those fine traits he didn't remember Balon Greyjoy having in his youth, there was a bit of his mother in him, especially the nose. But on a man it surely more suiting than on a lady.

He also had a big nice neck, the bulge of the Adam's apple enough evident to make his voice deep... Jaime wondered how he would have moaned in bed. He wondered if Robb Stark took him and he mewled and let out an angelic voice after all, or whether it was the opposite... maybe that would have been interesting.

He looked at Theon Greyjoy's hands, and he imagined them running on Robb Stark's face and jaw, then down his back, and when they raised again, in Jaime's mind they were caressing his own jaw and then tightly keeping Jaime's wrists, while he'd put him to sit in his lap, on his...

He shook away the thought quickly enough to force himself not to stare between Theon Greyjoy's legs.

Then he felt like Theon was looking at him too.

“Fine. - he groaned – I'll help you stand up, but a wrong move and you lose your teeth.”

Theon loathed that smile he had.

It reminded him of his own.

And if there was a thing Theon hated that was his own reflection.

He pulled Jaime's wrists together, pressing them, to prevent him from hitting his head, then pulled down his breeches and made him stand up, cock out, a flush on his muddy cheeks.

“So? - Theon scoffed, annoyed – Do you need a royal decree to piss?”

Jaime swallowed, realizing quickly he didn’t exactly feel like that anymore. Something different came through him when Theon Greyjoy pulled his breeches down.

Jaime was too dirty to feel like he could have been of any interest to the young lord, but he could feel his dick twitch, painful, ecstatic, sparks of fire riding his nerves just at feeling Theon Greyjoy's eyes on his crotch and his breath close, so close.

Did he take the king his mouth?

“Do you need me to hold your dick or can you do it by yourself?”, Theon chuckled, in a smirk that was getting nervous, burdened by something – a scent or a fantasy, blue and dense as the night.

Jaime's mouth trembled, he stared at his dick, not totally limp, and he swallowed wondering if the other would have realized that, if he could see through him.

His mind went to Cersei.

The only one he ever had, the only hand he ever felt except his own. And then Theon Greyjoy's hand was there, on his cock, shaking.

“Do you need a fucking invitation? - Theon growled, in between frustration and actual provocation, slapping Jaime's cock and making him squirm – Are you enjoying me?”

His breath was wildfire.

His hands, covered in gloves, felt so soft at the touch. Was that silk?

Jaime closed his eyes, threw back his head and let out another moan, as Theon slapped his cock again and then started pumping it. Jaime could feel that smirk cut through him. 

Theon slammed him against the wooden pole Jaime was tied to, using his weight to stop him completely, but also to squish him, pin him – Jaime's voice was by then just a strangled, needy whine. He was half-hard and his mind went dizzy.

His cock twitched in need, pulsing with pleasure with every stroke, tormented in delight by every wicked comment. Greyjoy's fingers caressed the thin, delicate line at the base of his head, making him tremble and, gods, Jaime hadn't had a moment to release since he was captured and those nights had been so lonely and his thoughts not of the purest kind, and his cock was hard as a rock.

“You're such a desperate whore. - Theon's smug voice twisted his guts in arousal and stirred his dick harder – Now I know who's the actual queen, at least.”

Jaime moaned, biting his dirty lips. He felt Greyjoy's mouth so close, his wet lips, his scent of salt.

And his hand went on hard on him, making him harder and harder.

“Can you even come without your sweet sister, hm? - he chuckled – You narcissistic fuckold, you probably get off at how much she looks like you while she fucks you. - that smirk cut through him – Is this what she does? Or is it just what you want?”

Jaime bit a shout and came, shamefully early, staring at himself in surprise, then to an amused Theon, of course, with a cruel naughtiness to his mischievous smile.

“You do not come gold. - he said, palming Jaime's still half-hard cock – But you sure pee it, don't you?”

His fingers slid on Jaime's cockhead, rubbed the sensitive pink tip, spreading the thick come left on it, until the Kingslayer started bucking against his hand, moving his hips. Theon drank up the shame on Jaime Lannister's eyes as he'd drink the squirt of one of his whores.

Jaime could barely control himself by then, his hips weakened, his resistance gone together with any dignity. His legs melted, so his moans, molten wax, rising in pitch. The breath condensed, white like his come against the dark night, and his lips dropped, letting out all kinds of delightfully lewd sounds Theon Greyjoy delighted to provoke in him.

And then the salt prince twisted Jaime's cock upwards.

A golden spray dirtied Jaime's lips, hit his face, droplets running on it, entering his panting needy lips. Theon Greyjoy grinned, victorious.

Jaime's pupils were blown in desire and shame, his face stained by his own pee, and there, next to him, Theon Greyjoy smirked like one who made a whore beg honestly.

And hard, too.

“That's the kind of gold that suits you the best.”, Theon then slapped him.

Jaime loathed himself, realizing how hard he moaned as the slap burned on his cheek.

Theon smirked and grabbed Jaime’s jaw tight, gripping on it. For a moment, the urge to kiss him ran through his blood, boiling it.

He stopped on the verge of his lips, unsure if held back by the scent of piss or by the thought of Robb.

Both, probably.

He threw the Kingslayer against the pole he was tied at.

“Sleep.”, he ordered, in a halfroar.

That night, when Theon Greyjoy returned in the tent with Robb Stark, welcoming his royal cock deep inside his ass, having Robb pushing and pounding into him, Theon imagined having Jaime under him. He imagined fucking someone else too, while being fucked by Robb, coming inside them and thrusting while Robb rutted in him.

The thought sent sparks of bliss through his spine and he spent quickly and with naughty, dark moans coming from his throat, thick as honey, wet as pleasure.

Robb kissed Theon's neck, voraciously in love, ferociously unaware.

 

*

 

Robb walked the camp nervously, something uneasy burdening his stomach and teasing his mind. It was like a sensation, a scent.

He knew that probably it was his mind playing tricks on him, him feeling all sensitive about the Kingslayer's comment and fearing him to speak up. And Theon seemed to feel confused too, he was often spacing out, he even missed a couple of targets at archery training and that was not like him.

And at night he got more and more cold, not in the sex – that with Theon was a constant – but in the affectionate, sweet nothings that used to follow it.

Robb remembered with fondness closing his eyes, after having spent himself in Theon, kissing the bruised chest and arms of his lover, while Theon would caress his hair and murmur to him “you were so good” or “I love you so”.

But since he had been crowned, it was mostly teasing, naughty, which was pleasant, but not... comforting. And Robb admitted he liked the idea of that sweetness.

He passed in front of the Kingslayer's open air cell. He was tied to the same pole since days, dirty with earth and... well, other unpleasant things to have on the skin.

Robb fetched a young squire.

“Lad. - he ordered, thunderous as much as his voice could be – Wash the Kingslayer, bathe him well, give him clean clothes, but take guards with you, so he won't escape.”

The squire nodded, nervously, and ran to search for the guards and a vat.

Robb moved towards the cell, instead, trying to summon his coldest look.

If Theon was so nervous, he was going to make sure he'd feel safe too – as Theon did with him.

“Kingslayer.”

Jaime Lannister raised his head with an exasperatingly tired look and sighed, “Your grace.”

“Oh? Did you get some manners?”

“For what a couple of words are worth. - he scoffed – How come here?”

He had that smirk, that Robb hated, because there was a superiority, an arrogance in that look … the one people saw in Thoen, he would suppose, but he knew Theon and he was nothing like that.

Jaime Lannister, instead, he couldn't say.

Not that he had reasons to doubt his fame. Especially due to Bran.

His sweet Bran.

“I've ordered to wash you. You stink almost like your honor, right now.”

“Funny. - he conceded, then smirked again – I thought you came for you... bedfellow.”  
“Beware how you speak.”

“Oh! - he mocked, with a gleam in his eyes – Is it a bad word? Aren't you allies of some sort? Or... did you take it as...literal? Oh, gods, I wonder why you would.”

Robb's hands trembled on the hilt of his sword. His eyes burned raw blue in rage.

“You're shameless. I could cut your tongue for that.”

“Right. - he nodded – After all, the Greyjoy boy has all the tongue you need.”

He almost didn't see him, as the punch hit him in the stomach. He just felt the air leaving and himself coughing his throat dry, under Robb Stark's severe look.

“You will refer to him as lord Theon Greyjoy, if you care for your health.”, he warned.

Jaime spit a glob of blood and coughed.

“You're not one to torture, Stark, don't make threats you can't abide to.”

Robb's eyebrows were furrowing, his jaw was clenched and as he spoke, his lip twitching, he looked more of a wolf than a man.

“What do you know of me and Theon? Speak.”

“What you let out. - he replied, his voice sharp and fragile as glass – How devoted and dedicated you are to each other. How confident it will be enough.”

Robb looked at him with nervous mock, as if the first cold wind of reality had just caressed his neck.

“I do not allow you to insinuate my loyal allies would-”

“Stark. - Jaime stopped him – Is threatening your thing? I mean, - he raised his eyebrows – I could sort of guess after having spoken to your... ally that he'd rather catch your baton, but you didn't strike me as the type that liked to be feared in bed.”

“I'm n-”

“Does he call you your grace too?”

Robb went pale, all blood flushing down from his face and his expression turned into panic and shivers.

“Oh. - Jaime chuckled, gloating – How cute. - he glanced at Robb's breeches then, but couldn't catch much, not that truth mattered – Is it overcompensation or...?”

“I swear, I-”

“Robb.”

Robb turned and Jaime looked beyond him. Theon was standing there, looking at them in worry, but with a cooler head than both of them.

Robb blinked, as if he just woke up from the frenzy of anger and nodded, slowly, “Theon.”

Theon moved closer, caressed Robb's arm. His temper was getting worse as war proceeded, tension biting his nape.

“Let the Kingslayer take his bath. - he said, slowly – Tonight, we will invite him to the tent to discuss which punishment you deem appropriate.”

Robb frowned and Theon raised his eyebrows, as if he was referring to something they both knew but Jaime ignored.

“Are... you sure?”

“It's the best solution. - Greyjoy's lips quivered – Trust me, your grace. - he glared at Jaime – Men like him can't be broken, they need to be bent.”

And, as he said that, Jaime felt his crotch twitch.

 

*

 

Robb walked up and down the tent, his pace quicker at every minute. Theon was sitting on one of the chairs, feet on another, staring in front of himself, while chugging down the third cup of red wine.

It was almost purple, sweet like a lover's bruise, and scented like the end of summer.

He stared inside the cup, then drank more.

“Don't be nervous. - he tried to chuckle, but it came out smug and dry – He's going to accept.”

Robb shook his head, “It's a terrible idea. Horrible.”

“Maybe, then again, you are the strategy prodigy, I am the one who knows people.”

“I suppose.”, Robb replied, unwilling to neither accept the compliment nor admit Theon was right.

Theon looked at him, a knot burning in his stomach, wondering.

Did Robb  _love_ him, after all? Maybe fucking the Kingslayer would have changed his mind. Maybe he just needed a pretty boy, and the Lannister heir was older than them, but still pretty, in a way statues are.

He bit his lips, at the perspective of Robb falling for that other man and he having been the one to bring them together. It hurt, it burnt his pride, but maybe exactly because of that he needed to do it – to hurt himself a little bit.

“Your Grace.”

Robb turned and, as the squire bowed, he saw behind him the Kingslayer, still tied, his wrists chained, but clean now, his golden hair shining in amber in the low candlelight of the tent.

“The guards are out here?”, Robb asked.

“Yes.”

“Send them away. - he ordered, without looking at the squire – My personal guard is here. - he said, then, pointing at Theon with a quick gesture of the head – Nothing will befall me.”

The squire frowned, “Is it prudent, your grace?”

Jaime snorted and raised his eyebrows, mocking, “Is it prudent, your grace?”

Theon and Robb exchanged a quick glance, then Robb caught something that twisted his stomach: as Theon looked away, sipping again, his eyes fell on Jaime and Jaime's eyes ran on Theon too, up and down, checking him like one would a tavern wench.

“Tell them to go. - Robb confirmed – Jaime Lannister and me have to discuss war agreements of the maximum secrecy and the last thing we need is someone to overhear.”

The squire obeyed. And Jaime Lannister stayed there, standing, waiting, until the guards left from outside the tent and Theon Greyjoy decided to sit like someone not brought up by wolves. 

He swallowed, then chuckled.

“What's the plan, Stark? Kill me? Will you pretend I tried to attack you?”

Theon stood up and moved closer, Robb bit his lips and tried to look away, but forced himself not to. 

Jaime's glance fell around, looking for guesses, then, in a moment of panic dressed as cockiness, he snarled, “Give me a sword. Let's do it well. Your father would. An honorable fight.”

The comment seemed to have hurt Robb, who, thought, moved his lips but didn't speak.

Then, Jaime turned, feeling soft fingers caressing his cheek, slowly.

A smirk.

“Not everyone wants to think about members of their family in certain occasions, Kingslayer. - he whispered, warm, as his fingers reached Jaime's jaw, and his grin widened – Some prefer... other games.”

A slap across the cheek.

Jaime stared in the void, his eyes wide open, his lip pulsing.

Robb Stark, across the tent, was clenching his fists, staring at him like he wanted to kill him.

Theon Greyjoy, instead, smirked more.

He had half-lidded eyes, dark in lust.

“I'm sure your sister is not the only one who can make you hard. - he then glanced at Jaime's breeches – And I know I don't have to force you for you to want to join us.”

Jaime swallowed hard and he could feel Robb's ember glare burning him to the bone.

Theon Greyjoy pouted, making his lips big, then smirked, raising his eyebrows so knowingly.

“You've been such a bad guest. - his fingers moved on Jaime's chin – You abused my king's patience, but he's so generous... - and then he turned to Robb and back to Jaime, slowly, his voice scorching – He will allow you anyway to welcome his cock in your ass.”

“What makes you think I won't resist?”

Theon chuckled, his other hand caressed Jaime's crotch through the breeches. He sucked his lips, eager.

Jaime stared, hypnotized, as the lips got sucked and then, swollen and wet, came out of Theon's grip.

Theon gave a soft squeeze on Jaime's hardening shaft, then pressed on it, “You don't want to, though, do you?”

Jaime stared at Robb Stark, biting his lips in anger, clenching his fists, clearly displeased and aroused at the same time at seeing his favorite entertaining someone else. And thrills shivered down Jaime’s spine, making him feel a frenzy he was not sure he ever felt – a weird flush of power and desire, fully different from when with Cersei.

Theon Greyjoy moved Jaime's chin and kissed him; and Jaime stared in Robb Stark's furious blue eyes, before reciprocating the kiss, opening his mouth and welcoming the big, hot tongue inside him. Robb's glare, Theon's tongue, the now suddenly pleasant constriction of his handcuffs, it made his head light and his crotch burning.

He sank back into Theon's mouth and the Greyjoy heir pulled him closer by the neck, deepening the kiss, tasting all of Jaime and filling him to the brink.

Jaime's heart pounded with desire. He remembered often how, when with Cersei, he had wished for her to take control, just like she did in life, to make him feel weak and owned. He closed his eyes, drowning in the sensation of Greyjoy's deep kiss and of his hand, still, furtively, playing through the breeches.

Robb's voice came as a surprise, darker than night, as he moved behind Greyjoy, and murmured, “He's not yours.”

He pulled Theon to himself and kissed him, rough, shallow in his tongue at first, but biting his lips, bruising them with insistence and force, just before actually pushing thought his mouth so hard it made Theon draw a lewd moan. Theon's eyes looked like pure melted heat as he looked to his king.

Robb then moved his hands to Jaime's wrists and pulled him closer by the handcuffs.

“We should take these off.”

Jaime's lip twitched and Theon Greyjoy smirked.

“Oh. - his hand squeezed his erection, now plainly visible through the breeches, again, and he said, all smug – But he doesn't want us to.”

Robb seemed confused, poor soul.

Jaime figured then for sure Robb Stark was not the type with many paramours. 

Theon chuckled, moved his hand inside the fabric and caressed Jaime's shaft directly this time, “It makes him all hard being bossed around, doesn’t it?”

Crave burnt through him.

His face must have betrayed him, because Robb Stark understood and stared at Theon.

“Fine.”

Theon smirked and gave his king a soft, long kiss, pulling his lips. As he parted, he passed the tongue on his teeth and mouthed something. Now and … ?

When he turned again to him, though, Jaime could easily fall back in the sensation of being completely swept under the most turbulent sea tide. Jaime's knees almost gave in.

Theon Greyjoy's mouth explored his neck, licking it, almost gently, then sucking, with a rudeness Jaime couldn't remember ever finding that sweet. He closed his eyes, moaned, enjoying the sensation of his blood pooling, of the teeth sinking in him.

But when he slightly opened his eyes he could see Robb Stark, chugging down a cup of wine – redder than his hair – and glare at him with a loathing and a desire murky and mixed to the point that even Jaime knew that sensation, couldn't trace a border between them anymore.

He was getting harder, that Jaime could tell.

Theon Greyjoy smirked against his neck, bit his collarbone and then lowered himself on his knees.

His hand felt big and warm on his cock, jerking it to hardness, but Jaime looked down, hoping to soon feel that eager, big tongue also on his shaft.

“No.”

Theon turned and Jaime cursed. Robb Stark had dropped his cup and moved closer to them, pulling his beloved from the floor almost violently. Theon stared at him, wide-eyed in surprise.

Then he smirked, with a playful look.

Only Theon Greyjoy could look playful in front of Robb Stark right then. That boy looked like he was going to devour them both, and not in the funny way.

“Let me take care of our guest for a bit.”

“On the bed. - Robb growled, then glared at Theon – You won't kneel to him.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, “Does he only kneel to you?”

Theon had the strong perception that, had he been a good person, he wouldn't have enjoyed that spat, but, being himself, he gloated and sucked his lips.

He caressed Jaime's chest and looked at him, “Lay on the bed.”

Jaime obeyed, moving to the big mass of pillows and furs in the corner of the tent. He remembered the northerners were fonder of furs than of silk since his staying in Winterfell. He remember how it felt to fuck Cersei against those, when Robert was away, how soft her voice sounded, muffled through those, as she hid her face to avoid moaning too loud. He wondered if he would have sounded the same and shame rode his nerves.

As he laid, Theon Greyjoy undressed completely in front of him and the king, surely, though, Jaime had the perception they were interested in fairly different parts of the ironborn lordling. Jaime glanced at the muscles riding his arms, showing years of archery, how strong they looked, and how hung he looked – Jaime found himself more shamed by the thrill of curiosity in him than by the forbidden nature of such an impulse – while the king stared longingly at Theon's back, his bottom firm as an apple and as tempting to bite.

Theon moved on the bed over him, kissing his jaw softly, while rubbing his cock against Jaime's – his hands took off Jaime's breeches completely and left him naked and pulsing like a maiden.

And, gods be damned, he loved the sensation.

After years of secrecy, of rushed moments, of vulnerabilities hidden... Theon's tongue caught Jaime's in a kiss and Jaime closed his eyes, getting lost in the fullness his mouth was feeling.

He twitched and squirmed, when Theon's cock rubbed his own, their heads touching, brushing, sending sparks of pleasure through his spine. He arched, moaning, under Theon Greyjoy's most elated smirk.

Robb Stark moved closer, at their sides, and untied his breeches at the height of that smirk.

Jaime was now sure that the boy had no need for overcompensation. He, instead, stared, impressed, as Theon managed to take it in his mouth, while still keeping the rhythm and rubbing with him. Jaime could feel his dick twitch as he stared at Theon's cheek deformed and swollen by Robb's shaft.

And he sucked so devotedly, with so much wet need in his eyes …

Robb pressed Theon's head against his crotch, making him inebriated with his smell.

Theon moaned against the hard erection and Robb pulled him away; Theon whined, his tongue stained with a string of precum, Robb's cock looking even bigger now that it was fully hard.

Jaime had to fight back the lowest, lewdest impulse.

Theon panted and bit his lips, before glancing down to him, finding, amused, how hard Jaime was.

“Would you like me to suck you? - and then he seemed to move, to turn so that... _oh_ – Then suck me too, while I'm at it.”

Theon's cock was right over his head, begging to be taken care of, hard and needy, while Theon's mouth was already kissing Jaime's balls, almost too gently, making him frustrated.

Jaime gulped dry. He had only licked Cersei in his life, and, although he did not mind the change, he was not sure Theon's cock was going to be the best for a novice to try to deepthroat.

He arched his back and head, as he felt Theon's tongue riding his erection. It toyed with it, tortured it, blissfully, with a shamelessness Jaime didn't think possible. It tickled the foreskin, painted the base of the head and then took it in between the lips. It felt so warm, warmer than ever, and Jaime was sure he was going to melt from it. His hips twitched, bucked, begging for Theon to take more in, his length too, but instead, the little, black snake sucked just the tip, let it slip out, licking and teasing. Jaime bit his lips in despair and frustration, his dick twitching under the slowest tease.

It was pride that shook him.

He felt his voice riding, higher and higher, pleasure turning him into a maiden so quick, and, to shut himself up, he took Theon's cock in his mouth. It felt almost easy, at first, sucking it slowly, until Theon felt it and started bucking into him slowly.

Jaime moaned, his mouth, his throat feeling filled, taking in the pushed length, inch by inch.

Theon thanked him well, returning the favor and taking all of him in at once.

Jaime almost screamed, muffled just by the cock, heavy and big on his tongue, suffocating any moan he had. Theon's mouth was warm as hell, soft as silk. It sucked him ruthlessly slow, then left him and teased his tip, just before taking all of him back in again.

It was torture and ecstasy all at once.

He wriggled, squirmed, feeling his hips melt in pleasure.

But the worst part was how good it felt being pushed through, having Theon's cock pound through him, shutting him up. He rolled his eyes back, when he felt precum dripping into him.

Jaime could feel his cock pressed against the back of Theon's throat, and the heat melting him, pooling in his veins, making him moan – a voice that was lewd, liquefied pleasure.

Jaime's hips moved quicker and quicker, more desperate to come with every moment. It felt so close, so close, and the taste of Theon's cock in his own mouth made it all more morbid.

Theon parted, though.

And Jaime tried to whine, but it all came out like a low moan – Theon was fucking his mouth, blinded by his own need to come. Moans fell, drooling and dropping, from Theon's whimpering parted lips.

And as Jaime opened his eyes he saw why.

Robb Stark was behind Theon, over Jaime, his fingers deep in Greyjoy's tight ass.

And he looked so hard.

Theon panted, trying to regain some control, and rubbed his thumb on Jaime's quivering tip, pushing the soft flesh flat, enjoying the tremble under his fingertip, before sucking on it, slowly, sweetly, making all of Jaime tremble.

And then he jolted in the most obscene moan.

Jaime stared, in awe – there was something Robb Stark touched inside Theon that unravelled him in an instant. And he felt it, and he tasted it, Theon's come, salty, deep in his mouth.

Robb pushed Theon's head down then.

Theon's tongue, flat and hot, wrapped around Jaime's cockhead and he sucked it – smoldering, making him dry and empty. Jaime bucked against it, thrust, squirting up the thick sperm on the eager tongue. Theon then licked the rest clean, greedy like the whore he proved to be, and Jaime couldn't help but do the same, sucking Theon's softening cock to hardness again.

Theon meowled, trying to adapt his position.

“Pass me the oil...”, he panted.

“A moment.”, Robb replied, and took a bottle next to them.

Jaime stared above his head, as he saw Robb Stark pouring some of the oil on his cock and then more inside Theon's ass, massaging it – two, three, four fingers – sliding softly inside him, making Theon moan with the dirtiest delight.

Then Robb handed the bottle over to Theon and Jaime, still hypnotized by Robb's work of widening Theon's entrance and by the mesmerizing girth he was to put in, found himself wishing that he too would …

He arched, jolted, welcoming Theon's first finger inside.

He tried to move up, to look, and could partly see, but just barely, Theon oiling his fingers and sinking them inside his ass, just like Robb was doing to him.

Jaime's lips quivered in arousal and shame. He wanted to complain, to refuse, but it felt so overwhelming and hot, the fingers taking space inside him.

Robb Stark glanced at him.

And Jaime felt squished to submission just by a look.

Theon arrived to three fingers, moving gently, in and out, slowly, opening him with a patience that made Jaime feel both flattered and frustrated; he perfectly knew he needed time, but after he saw how much pleasure Theon felt from that, tasted it, after he could stare at Robb's cockhead, pressing on Theon's entrance, preparation felt like not enough. He was filled for the first time and he still felt empty.

He licked his lips, breathless, feeling Theon's fingers pushing into him.

Curling.

“Oh. - Theon chuckled – Here feels good, doesn't it?”

Jaime couldn't reply, because yes, yes, it felt good. Too good. Better than he could remember anything feeling.

He felt invaded and taken over, his whole flesh was alight with a heat he couldn't place, something similar to the fire of thunders shaking his nerves, burning through his blood. He bit his lips, strangling the neediest moan, while he could feel it, his hips moving, searching for Theon's fingers, quicker and quicker, fucking himself on them.

And Theon just got rougher, harder, pressed, tormented that – something – that damn fucking something that was making Jaime Lannister go insane and squirm under him.

Before he could notice, Jaime was begging for more, loudly, whining, moving so quick that Theon's cock twitched in foreboding arousal.

Robb Stark, in the meantime, kissed Theon's back, bit it – making him growl, moan, choke – and sucked his soft, tender hips, before sinking the nails of one hand into them, and then, with his other hand guiding himself, started to enter into Theon's ass.

And Theon's movements got quicker, relentless as he himself was getting fucked.

And Jaime's moans got higher, his bliss aching for release, his ravening ecstasy burning in his balls to come out. He couldn't help but imagine Theon pushing his whole hand in, drilling into that spot, breaking him in two. And he could stare up and see, see it all, Robb's dark cock opening Theon's ass wide – too wide – and claiming him, taking him over, in a few thrusts all in, balls deep. And he moved so rough and so fast and so hard, that Jaime felt his own ass open and, closing his eyes, imagined Theon's cock in, splitting him open.

He came with more of a mewl than a roar, but Theon didn't stop, pressing still, twisting his wrist almost to insist to assail and plunge into Jaime's raw and oversensitive flesh, while Robb would slam into him, making him rut and gasp.

He came soon again, almost crying, his eyes hot and wet in desire, staring at how Theon's other mouth could swallow his king's sceptre.

Jaime raised his head slightly and started licking Theon's tip, sucking it as he did with him. Theon moaned. His fingers left Jaime's ass and he just held onto the furs, white-knuckled, trying to find a way to contain his moans.

Robb then slapped his ass, while thrusting into it.

Theon's hips faltered, his knees trembled. His ass torn open by Robb's barbarous, sweet pounding, that left him thunderstruck and breathless in pleasure. He could feel the cock filling him whole, to the edge, to the point it almost hurt, but not yet.

And then, then the Kingslayer's tongue, wet and soft, lapped the head of his cock.

Theon could barely contain himself anymore, he moved more against Robb, feeling the balls slap against him, the nails deeply buried in his skin, and Jaime's mouth this time all over his cock.

He came with a scream, bucking without control, squirming so hard, Robb had to keep him still by the hips, while Jaime drank all his come, eager and greedy, hollowing his cock out.

Theon still trembled, afterglow brimming inside him, his tip dark still and wet from Jaime licking him; and Robb didn't stop. Maybe it was a good punishment for not having stopped tormenting the Kingslayer's prostate, maybe it was a blessing, but Robb's cock was inside him still, moving so rough, turning his raw inside to heaven, making him a mess. Theon whined, begged, lost any sense of being watched, moving his hips, fucking his cock in the air and then fucking himself on Robb.

“Watch, Kingslayer. - Robb said, almost in a growl – I'll make him come just from his back, like you did.”

Theon wanted almost to protest but how to? It felt so good, he lost his strength and laid back, against Robb, who raised his legs up, exposing him, showing him off, proud, how his ass would welcome a cock so easily and how hard he could get from being used. Jaime stared, ecstatic, and hungrier than ever.

Theon was basically in heaven, moaning with every thrust, quick or slow, begging for another, pleading – and Robb's shaft would enter fully, swallowed up. And he kept hitting that spot, Jaime was certain by then, he could recognize that expression, when all shame is gone, because a pleasure too big took over.

“Robb, Robb... yes, fuck me like that, please...”, Theon whispered, almost delirious from avid craving.

He writhed more and more, until Robb started fucking so quick, Theon's voice became high and no biting could control it.

Jaime then moved, closer, bent, and licked the conjunction point between Theon's ass and Robb's balls, passing his tongue on that little line of so tender skin, making both of them shiver.

He was panting, then glanced at Theon's cock, so big and hard, and turned, showing his twitching ass to the other two. Shame burned on his cheeks, but it didn't matter anymore. Theon kissed Robb, as to ask permission, and Robb nodded, slipping out, and kissing Theon gently before covering his lover's aching, throbbing cock with a generous amount of oil.

Theon's voice was still gravelly and silky, black with blind lust.

“I'll be nice.”, he promised, kissing Jaime's ass softly, before lining himself behind him.

“Don't be.”

Theon chuckled and kissed Jaime's neck.

In another life, in another time, that would have been perfect.

Jaime lifted his head and mouthed a breathless, paradisiac moan, as he felt Theon entering him, making him open. It burnt, at first, he felt his muscles refusing, but the perverted, twisted need to feel taken did it, dissolution dissolved the pain and he took him inside, slowly, inch by inch, pleasure thickening and filling him as the girth and length pulled him apart and thrust into him.

Jaime held onto the furs, his tied wrists burning and that sting stirring his desire thicker.

Theon moved slowly, trying to keep himself from coming too quickly, prodding rhythmically. His hands grabbed Jaime's hips, pulled him closer, burying himself inside.

Jaime closed his eyes, focusing just on the way his flesh took him in, on the push through him. Theon's hand soon went to his cock, stroking it slowly, allowing Jaime to relax fully, getting lost in pleasure taking him from both sides, submitting him without ties or screams.

And then Robb slid inside Theon and Jaime felt both their rhythms melt, both their thrusts slam him down and done, either directly or from the echo in Theon's shivers and twitches. 

Theon clawed into him, tracing trenches of blood and burning skin.

His voice melted away, soft as the night, smoldering sweet. Behind, Robb's breath, low and dark, murky and stormy.

Theon panted in his ear and Jaime moaned, leaning his head back, getting lost in it.

Theon bucked into Jaime senselessly, holding him close, sheathing himself deeper and deeper, rougher each time, desperate for release. Jaime could feel it, again, that spot hit mercilessly, over and over; until he came with a shout, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

He was still panting, struggling to get back his breath as Theon slammed him open and, sinking into him with a deep thrust, filled him with his come.

Robb, then, held Theon by the hips, burying himself into him, fast, rough, hard – every slam made Theon writhe wetly, obscenely trashing. Theon grinded still against Jaime's stained ass, half-hard and saturated with the aftermath of the orgasm still brimming on his skin.

Theon shivered, trying to find the strength to, and pushed himself against Robb, letting him deeper inside, taking the whole length up in his ass, haste turning into need.

Robb's thrusts started becoming erratic, more difficult, arousal and closeness making him harder and more brutal, he'd slam in again, stronger.

Theon could feel the girth pulling him apart. And, gods be damned, he loved that.

Robb held him tight, inebriated with his lustful moans, soaked in an insatiable ravenousness. He thrust into Theon again, pounding his prostate to the brink.

Robb came in a growl, shoving himself balls-deep, and calling Theon's name over and over.

Theon fell on the furs, as Robb slid out from him – come flowing out slowly and staining Theon's thighs, and rolled on the bed, resting his back on the soft blankets. Robb bent over him and kissed him, sweetly, overlyhoneyed, without urgency now, but just the tenderness that reaches after the thunderous embraces. 

Jaime looked at them with a mixture of envy and misery – he wanted to miss Cersei but the comparison with something that managed to be that pure also while deep in dirt and lust made his heart a heavy burden.

Theon turned to him then, smiled, too tired to smirk, moved closer and caught Jaime's lips in his own too, sucking his big lips, nibbling them, and then staring at him – eye to eye – tempting like the first instant. 

Robb Stark seemed still jealous, but didn't comment, he just moved to the side, shaking his head. Theon smiled looking at him and Jaime felt a painful pang of envy.

His hand moved, then, to caress Greyjoy's dark hair, gently, entwining his fingers with the night locks.

“Remain here to sleep...”, Theon said, low-voiced.

“He should go. - Robb observed, moving to his table and extinguishing some of the candles – It's more prudent if he returns to his cell.”

Theon pouted, unamused.

“Just for a bit.”

“Just for a bit.”, Robb allowed.

Jaime Lannister didn't feel the need to ask not to speak of him as if he were not present.

 

*

 

When Jaime opened his eyes again, he found himself still between the furs. His hands were not only handcuffed but tied with a rope to one of the bed legs.

Robb Stark was staring at him. He was sitting on the bed, legs in front, with maps over his lap that he was still controlling. He didn't look like a boy at all.

“Well, aren't you a zealous, prudent pup?”, Jaime snarked.

Robb raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain somewhat of a collected look, glaring.

“You have some nerve mocking me.”

Jaime bit his inner cheek, then glanced at Robb's side, where, curled against him, face on his thigh, was Theon Greyjoy, sleeping quietly.

“He looks almost cute when he shuts up and stops grinning.”, he commented.

Robb glared at first, territorial like a real direwolf. And Jaime found him almost cute.

Although, admittedly, cute was not the part that had charmed him.

“I suppose he does it often. - Jaime continued – With you, I mean.”

A sigh, Robb seemed downright annoyed, “Shutting up?”

“Being vulnerable. - Jaime chuckled, mocking – Look at him, more than an ironborn, he looks like a kitten.”

He hated that, because he was the same.

He hated that reflection of flesh.

“He... can be both. - Robb mumbled, the pout turning into shyness – Theon is …”

“You care for him a lot.”, Jaime observed, not sure why with as much bitterness as the one he felt on his tongue.

Sweetness turned sour. And pain lingered in his stomach.

Robb frowned, looking at his supposed prisoner, “I... don't know why we did this.”

“Because it was arousing? - Jaime simplified, with a snarky, smug laugh – It's not like people need big reasons to copulate.”

Robb swallowed and looked away, then his glance fell again on Theon.

And Jaime felt that familiar loathing again surging between the folds of his heart.

Robb Stark didn't have other lovers besides the Greyjoy lordling, did he?

His lips curled, a sour taste melted with a weird relief. “Renly Baratheon seems to share your... affection choices.”

Robb didn't give him an answer, but something between a laugh and a scoff escaped his closed lips.

“Untie me.”

“Why would I?”

“Do I really have to explain it, pup?”

Robb moved just enough to cut the rope that kept Jamie stuck, but Theon opened his eyes slowly, emitting a low-voiced, annoyed moan. Robb looked at him and smiled.

“I'm sorry I woke you up.”

“I hope it was for a good reason.”, Theon mumbled, raising his eyebrows and then looking at Jaime.

Jaime moved to him, cupped Theon's head from his neck and pulled him close for a kiss. Theon smirked against it, threw his arms around Jaime and welcomed him atop him, moaning against his soft lips.

Jaime's stubble tickled pleasantly. He was used to Robb's almost callow cheeks and the scratch felt good. He closed his eyes, pushing his tongue in and tasting Jaime's mouth.

Robb stared at the Kingslayer's body in the candlelit night; he was not ugly, not pretty as Theon, of course, but he had his charm, but what burnt Robb was how arrogant he was, how empty, unable to take anything seriously. Jaime Lannister was so similar to what Theon pretended to be.

Or so he seemed.

He wondered if, under that golden-covered smugness and that tailored smile, there might have been something weak, something soft, something true.

Theon parted from the kiss, panting, moaning. Jaime was sucking his neck, kissing it methodically, while his hands kept their cocks together, jerking them at once, rubbing them until their arousal pulsed together. The sound of Theon's needy voice turned Robb's stomach upside down.

“You can't fuck him.”, he ordered to the Kingslayer.

Theon glared, but couldn't hide a flush of pleasure due to that jealousy. Robb's possessiveness always felt good to his homeless heart.

Jaime then sat up and looked at Theon, interrogative, until the Greyjoy lordling moved, kissed Robb too, bringing him closer, pulling him from the night clothes' collar and biting his lips bruised. Robb pushed deeper, drowning his tongue in Theon’s mouth, making moans drop out of him, desperate and lewd as the first night.

Theon separated with difficulty, his tongue swollen, his heartbeat drumming him deaf.

“I'll take him in my mouth. - he whispered – You behind.”

Jaime bit his lips, frustrated, although not against it. He would have hoped that … 

Robb Stark's eyes gleamed, “Or maybe he should stay in the middle.”

Jaime felt his cock twitch as Theon Greyjoy sucked his bottom lip, licking the upper, at the idea.

“Fine by me. - his voice seemed to have gotten lower, as he took his cock in his hands and moved it closer to Jaime's mouth – Drink me well.”

Jaime obliged, opening his mouth, this time trying to find the easier way to bend his head and take all he could in without feeling his throat clenched. Bobbing the head helped, and seemed to arouse the lordling enough for him to sink his long fingers in Jaime's golden locks, moving his hips slowly, accompanying Jaime's effort. Theon's cock felt so heavy and thick on his tongue, it felt absurd to think it had been in his ass before.

But this time, this time there was such a shame, slapping him deeply: the idea that that cock fucked him. It sent shivers of pleasure down and up his spine.

He was such an obedient harlot, sucking the cock that fucked him. He almost wished that...

Theon chuckled, “Such a good whore... - he whispered, maybe low just to make sure Jaime wouldn't bite him out of spite – Do you even remember where this has been?”

Jaime gave a nodding suck, closing his eyes and taking him deeper.

Theon closed his eyes, smiling, blissfully, breathing getting heavy.

“Does that turn you on? - he smirked – That I fucked you that deep? Your virgin ass took all of this.”

He pressed Jaime's face against his black hairs and Jaime moaned loud against Theon's cockhead.

“And now, so dedicated, so humble, you suck it. - a low chortle, a smirk – Robb, I'm not sure he even needs to be prepared, greedy as he is, this _slut_.”

Jaime would have loved to pretend that hadn’t aroused him, but it did. He could feel his cock jump at the comment.

Then he felt Stark's thick, slick, fingers inside him, pushing, one at a time. He tried to scream in pleasure, but Theon's cock blocked his mouth and pushed all his delighted whines back in.

Some drops of oil fell from his ass, warm, making him wish it was come, making him dream it was.

When Robb Stark took away his fingers, Jaime felt emptier than ever.

Until he didn't.

He cursed, almost gagged, sucking on Theon's cock partially to avoid shouting. He could feel again Robb pouring oil, but when his tip was against his entrance again, Jaime still was not sure how he would have managed to take him.

He stared at Theon, envious of how he took it, almost bitter about it – the Greyjoy though had no idea and, feeling watched, found that hollow-cheeked, red face so cute he thrust into it harder.

His hand, though, caressed Jaime's golden hair, petting him.

It was so soothing, he closed his eyes, opening them just to roll them to the ceiling, bliss taking him, as finally Robb entered.

It didn't exactly hurt, it just felt unnatural – unnaturally big, unnaturally placed, unnaturally  _good_ . If Theon had opened him, Robb was splitting him.

And Jaime was sure if he had had any self-preservation instinct, it should have kicked in; but it didn't and he just kept wishing for more, moving his hips against Robb, as to ask him to continue.

He moaned against Greyjoy's cock and he was sure he had to feel it, because he had just gotten more aroused as he started.

Theon pulled Jaime's hair then, so hard his erected cock slipped all out from his mouth, and looked down to him.

“Let Robb hear how you moan for him, sweetling.”

Jaime would have loved to avoid it, but couldn't. Not really.

Robb Stark's hands were on his hips, bruising them, and his cock was buried not more than half of its length and Jaime was already a writhing mess.

His voice came out so high, so tender, melting in the mouth. Desire lapped him dazed and drunk.

Robb moved deeper, one thrust and the rest of him was in.

Jaime's jaw dropped, his hands clenched the furs – white knuckles, they felt so much better than his white cloak – and Theon exploited the moment to lift the Kingslayer's chin and enter back, down fully in his soft, warm scabbard.

Robb pounded in, rough and big, slamming into him.

Jaime's legs shivered, squirmed with every thrust, each blow pulling him open and full. Above him, Robb and Theon kissed, steamy and sloppy, devouring each other, while thrusting into him, tearing him sweetly.

Even fucking someone else, they were lost in each other.

Jaime teased Greyjoy's cock with his tongue, feeling it going deep down his throat – the head hitting him – and feeling Stark behind, growing impatient and rougher and faster.

Between twitches and pounding, Theon's grip on his hair got harder.

“Now, drink me for real.”, Theon half-ordered and half-mocked, as only he could.

The young wolf filled Jaime up, marked him too. And as they came inside him, Jamie felt his strength gone, melted in an ichorous, wicked rhapsody.

Jaime stared at his own cock, dripping come, and for a moment, he was so happy he didn't give it to  _her_ . 

Guilt arrived only later.

 

*

 

“Your Grace.”

Robb turned, rolling his eyes to the sky, “Theon. It's not necessary.”

Theon smirked, stuck his tongue out, walking to his lover king.

“I do, though, find it endearing, in its own... nasty way. - he looked around the tent – I brought the Kingslayer back to his... pole.”

Robb seemed hurt, he clenched his jaw.

“Hope you won't miss his company.”

“It was a funny game. - Theon mumbled, looking at Robb's auburn hair falling on his pale freckled skin – We got his silence and a nice night, but...”

“Will you fuck women while you're away?”, he asked, looking outside, at the troops preparing to move.

“Robb...”

“Just tell me.”

Theon sighed, “Maybe, once or twice. - he sighed – You... you are my king. - it took all his pride to continue – And I'm your prince.”

Robb turned again to him, this time his look so soft.

“I will miss you.”

“I will miss you too. - Theon smiled, sweetly, for once – When I return, I'll require your company for many nights, so don't marry the Frey girl just yet.”

Robb laughed.

Theon smiled, licked his lips, “How narcissistic does one have to be to get hard for their sister, I wonder.”

Robb sighed, his eyes went to the sky, grey with smoke and the rain passed.

“He seemed to hate himself a lot...”

Theon frowned, “Why do you...?”

Robb wondered if being honest:  _I realized he smiles like you do_ ; then he opted otherwise and shook his head, moving closer to Theon and closing the tent.

“Well, who wouldn't feel horribly insecure after meeting the most handsome archer in the seven kingdoms?”

Theon snorted, moving closer, his eyes shining, smitten and enchanted, “You, you are the king of clumsy talks, your grace.”

Robb's hand caressed Theon's cheek.

“Come back soon.”

“I will. - he promised – My love.”

 

 


End file.
